Chapter Text
I've always believed that time isn't something you waste, but something you manage carefully. It's something you plan around and use with intention, because once it's gone, there's no way to get it back no matter how badly you wish you could redo a choice.
That's why, on Friday night when most of my grade was getting ready for Will Solace's Halloween party, I was sitting cross-legged on Clarisse La Rue's bed with my laptop open, papers spread around me, and a color-coded system of notes preparing for our upcoming debate. Behind me, Clarisse's bedroom felt like a completely different world, filled with the sharp scent of hairspray and the sound of Thalia Grace muttering under her breath as she tried to fix a section of her curls that refused to cooperate.
"If you keep going over it like that, you're going to burn it," I said, not looking up from my screen as I adjusted a sentence in my outline.
"It's called effort," Thalia shot back, clearly focused but still managing to sound annoyed. "Not everyone wants to look like they've been studying all night."
"I don't look like that," I replied, even though I knew what she meant, my braids were in my face from leaning down towards my screen and my shirt was wrinkled from adjusting myself on the bed.
Clarisse laughed from across the room as she pulled on one of her boots. "You don't just look like it, Annabeth, you are it."
"That's not the same thing."
"It kind of is," Thalia added, finally turning around to look at me.
I didn't argue after that, mostly because I knew how it would go, and instead I focused back on my notes, underlining a section and rewriting it so it sounded stronger.
"The quarterfinals are in two weeks," I said, keeping my tone calm and matter-of-fact, "and if we want to do well, we should be using our time wisely instead of going to a party."
Clarisse paused and looked at me, already knowing where this was going. "We've been preparing all summer, we're not going to suddenly fall apart because we take one night off."
"It's not about one night," I said. "It's about repetition, so we remember."
"No it's about being seventeen," Thalia cut in, crossing her arms. "And actually doing normal things once in a while."
"I am doing normal things," I said.
"You scheduled fifteen minutes of free time last week for a coffee break with us, after we convinced you...thats not normal," Clarisse replied.
"That was efficient."
"That was sad." Thalia and Clarrise said in unison.
I looked back down at my notes, but it was harder to focus with both of them staring at me like that.
"You're coming," Clarisse said finally.
"I'm not."
"It's Greek mythology themed," Thalia added, like she'd been saving that.
I hesitated.
I do love Greek Mythology.
"...that's not the point."
"It kind of is," she said, already grabbing my arm. "You can go as Athena and judge everyone silently like she does, you'll be on theme, it'll be perfect!"
"I already do that."
"Exactly, now it'll make sense to everyone else."
—
I didn't really agree, but I also didn't say no, which apparently counted.
By the time we got to Will's house, I had been turned into what Thalia called a "low-effort Athena," though when I caught my reflection briefly in the car window before we got out, I had to admit it didn't look low-effort at all.
My dress was a soft white that fell just above my knees, simple in shape but fitted enough to feel intentional, with thin gold detailing along the edges that caught the light every time I moved, and Thalia had insisted on adding a delicate gold belt that sat perfectly at my waist, making the whole thing look more put together. My braids had been pulled back from my face and half-pinned so they fell neatly down my back, with a thin laurel-inspired headband woven in, subtle but noticeable if you looked closely, and my makeup—done almost entirely by Clarisse—was just enough to make my features sharper without feeling heavy, my lips slightly glossed, my brown eyes lined in a way that made them stand out more than usual.
"You look good," Clarisse said. I didn't know what to say because it was hard for me to believe that, so I'd just nodded. Standing outside the house now, I tugged slightly at the hem of my dress in discomfort.
Thalia, on the other hand, looked exactly like she belonged here, dressed in all black with a fitted top that laced up the front, a short skirt layered over fishnets, and boots that looked like they could do actual damage. Her curls were wild, her eyeliner sharp and dramatic, a small gold nose ring catching the light when she turned her head; she somehow managed to look both effortless and sexy at the same time.
Clarisse wasn't subtle either, dressed like some kind of modern warrior with a dark red top, leather accents, and those same heavy boots, her curly hair pulled back just enough to keep it out of her face while still framing it, her presence alone enough to make people move out of her way without her having to say anything.
Next to them, I felt...different.
Not worse.
Just not the same.
I'm sure I looked equally nice as them but I was missing the most important thing. Confidence, which is the key essential for looking your best. The music was loud enough that I could feel it before we even got to the door, and the house itself looked packed, light spilling through the windows as people moved around inside.
"This is a lot," I muttered.
"It's a party," Clarisse said.
"That doesn't make it better," I said.
"It makes it fun," Thalia replied, already pushing the door open.
The noise hit immediately, along with the heat and the mix of voices, music, and laughter that didn't really blend so much as exist all at once, and for a second I just stood there, taking it in.
"I'm getting a drink," Clarisse announced, I shot her a look and her smile dropped. "Soda," she added quickly, "I meant soda, duh!"
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
Thalia laughed. "I'm gonna find Grover before he disappears in a corner somewhere."
"He probably already has," I said, "text me when you find him!"
Chilling with Grover in a corner sounded like something I could tolerate. Thalia nodded, then she was gone, leaving me standing there on my own waiting for Clarisse to get her drink.
I folded my arms loosely, shifting my weight as I took a few steps further into the room, already feeling out of place in a way I couldn't quite ignore, like I was watching everything instead of actually being part of it.
"Hey, neighbor."
I turned at the voice, already knowing who it was.
Percy Jackson stood a few feet away, like he had just appeared at exactly the right moment, and for a second I forgot what I was going to say. I had seen Percy a thousand times before, living next door to him meant I'd grown up catching glimpses of him in passing—him leaving early for practice, him playing with his little brother Tyson in the yard, him laughing too loudly with his friends—but we had never really talked, not beyond the occasional polite acknowledgment, not enough to actually know each other.
Still, it was hard not to notice him now.
The toga—if it could even be called that—hung loosely off one shoulder, the fabric draped in a way that left most of his upper body uncovered, and it was obvious he spent more time training than most people at this school, his shoulders broad, his arms defined without looking forced, and his stomach—annoyingly—was toned, with his abs peaking out from under the toga as he moved. His skin caught the warm light of the room, and his blond curls looked slightly messy, like he hadn't tried too hard but it didn't matter because he still looked handsome. His eyes were bright blue, and they were currently focused on me as he spoke.
"You came," he said, sounding genuinely surprised, "you never show up to these things."
"I was dragged here," I replied dryly, he smiled hard.
"Still counts," he grinned, " regardless I'm glad you're here."
I looked down, not knowing what to say back.
It's good to see you too?
We see each other everyday. I guess this was different since we were actually face to face and not across eachother's driveways. The only time I ever get to see him face to face is mostly once a year during thanksgiving when our families invite each other to our houses. I stared at my feet still not knowing what to say back, I glanced at the cup in his hand and instead said to him.
"You're drinking."
He followed my gaze and laughed. "Are you judging me?"
"I'll take that as a yes."
"It's actually soda," he corrected me, "I don't drink." He leaned over the table Clarisse was still at, she was flirting with some football player as Percy was speaking to me. Percy poured me a sprite and handed me the cup.
I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm serious, there's no alcohol in either of our cups" he added, putting his hands up in surrender, then smirked slightly. "I like to take care of my health, gotta stay in shape."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course."
"Trust me." He winked at me.
I didn't.
He didn't seem bothered, just stood there, talking to me like this was normal, like we hadn't spent years living next to each other without ever actually talking, like it didn't matter that the only thing we really knew about each other came from watching from a distance.
And then—
"Percy."
Rachel appeared like she had been looking for him, and she didn't hesitate, stepping in close and pulling his face down to hers in a kiss that felt very intentional, like it was meant to be seen.
She was dressed as Aphrodite, her dress soft pink and flowing, the fabric light enough to move every time she shifted, her hair styled perfectly around her shoulders, her makeup flawless as always. Her whole presence was polished and put together. She was perfect.
When she pulled back, her eyes landed on me, and her smile was polite but not warm.
"Oh, hi," she said.
"Hi." I responded, Percy looked speechless after that kiss and so did I.
She tilted her head slightly. "What are you doing talking to my boyfriend?"
"I was just—"
"Percy," she said, cutting me off as she turned back to him, "you said you'd dance with me."
Why ask if you're going to cut me off?
He hesitated for a second, then let her pull him away, and just like that they disappeared into the crowd. I stood there for a moment, then looked down at my drink and took a small sip, already thinking about leaving because this was exactly why I hadn't wanted to come in the first place.
—
I decided I was going to leave soon with or without my friends but then Percy came back. After having his face sucked and then pulled onto the dance floor, he looked a little more relaxed now.
"Hey," he said. "Sorry about earlier."
"For what?"
"Rachel," he said. "She hasn't seen me much lately."
"Why not?" I tilted my head concerned, "are you guys ok?"
They were always attached at the hip, correction, SHE was always attached to his hip. Regardless, even though I didn't like either of them I still wished them the best in their meaningless high school relationship.
"Because she was traveling," he clarified, "I stayed home, helped my mom and Tyson."
That caught me off guard a little.
"That's good," I said.
He smiled, then added, "And sorry for earlier, she didn't need to get jealous."
I frowned in confusion of what he meant by that. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "I mean, it's you."
I stared at him, taken aback at his perception. "What does that mean?"
He hesitated. "I just mean—you're not like..."
"Like what?"
"...a cheerleader or anything."
There was a pause where I let that sink in, replaying it just to make sure I heard him right, and then the irritation hit all at once, sharp and immediate.
"Wow," I said, still in disbelief at what he just told me.
How shallow was that?
The thing is I know I'm not the prettiest girl in the world or even at my school, but I know damn well I wasn't at least ugly. But to highschool boys if you weren't a cheerleader, were you even pretty? Pretty equals popularity, which I was not. Which was fine. I didn't care to be popular, I was a nerd and was proud of it, I was a proud pretty nerd.
Period.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my cup and threw the drink straight at him, watching as the soda splashed across his face and down his chest, soaking into the thin fabric of his toga almost instantly, droplets clinging to his curls and running down the line of his jaw and neck.
He froze, blinking as he wiped at his face, completely caught off guard.
"Annabeth—what was that for?"
"You're unbelievable," I said, my voice steady even though my chest felt tight.
"I didn't even—what did I say?"
I shook my head, already turning away. "You're an asshole."
I didn't wait for him to respond, just pushed through the crowd and headed outside, the cool air hitting me as soon as I stepped out, finally giving me space to breathe and think again.
Whatever that conversation was supposed to be, I didn't have time to figure it out.
And I definitely didn't have time for Percy Jackson.